Hop-Frog
Hop-Frog, The Jester "One must either take an interest in the human situation or else parade before the void." Pronunciation: Hop-Frog's First Life: In the castle of a tyrannical lord, Hop-Frog was born the only son of an overworked handmaid. The father was an unruly stable boy, seeking only pleasures of the flesh with no thought of raising a family. Luckily for him, he never had to wrestle with that moral quandary, as his constant carousing won him only a swift kick to the head from the Lord's horse before Hop-Frog's birth. Fortunately, Hop-Frog's birth was not discovered at the time. Handmaids have strict schedules to maintain, and children were a nuisance and a time commitment. Hop-Frog's mother stole away when she could to feed and care for the child, but if not for the support of the other maids, Hop-Frog would have died at a very young age. Luckily, he was exceptionally well behaved and made sure not to cry when the Lord's cronies made their inspections. But what's a small boy to do once he's finally got full use of his limbs? Why, use them to get up to mischief of course! Simple things at first. Stealing food, misplacing sharp objects, finding out is and is not flammable, all the expected shenanigans available in the kitchen he called home. The only reason the other maids didn't throw him into the mystery meat stew was the sheer joy Hop-Frog had every time he completed a "practical joke." And who could stay mad at that laugh? However all good things come to an end. There can only be a finite number of impromptu performances before the cooks' laughter is heard and the guards become suspicious. Hop Frog's existence was discovered. The only reason the child wasn't thrown out on the spot was that Hop Frog's mother claimed him and pleaded to spare him. The unanimous support of the other cooks and maids forced the lord to show mercy and the 7 year old was appointed the first ever fool of the court. The title Hop-Frog was bestowed upon him, to mark his dexterous nature. It did not take long for Hop-Frog to become a welcome sight in court. It was even noted that that the lord eased his scowl from time to time. He did not cease strict discipline towards the staff though, or the leniency he showed the court officials when their morals could be called into question. Many muttered under their breaths about the injustice of the lord's rule. The loyal retainers and nobles were worse, flaunting their status to abuse the cooks and maids. Some more direct and cruel than others... One noble in particular, an upstart from a young family, got into his head that he was the most desirable man at court. Prostitutes would not do; they were attracted to the coin and did not share nearly a fraction of the prestige that the nobles and even the castle staff had. He was insatiable in his pursuit of the ladies in the castle and was charismatic enough that few resisted. One who did resist was Hop-Frog's mother. At first this only excited the man more, but it would not take long before excitement turned to frustration and anger. Soon he was stalking her routes through the castle, getting in the way of her work, becoming more and more brash and forward. His advances could not be challenged by the staff, and would not be reprimanded by the Lord. It was only a matter of time before she found herself in a more isolated part of the keep, unable to get away from the noble. He had his way with her and even if someone did hear her scream, they pretended not to. She was found later within an inch of her life, and soon after, succumbed to her injuries. The noble was seen with several new deep cuts which he explained away as animal claw marks from training a new exotic pet. However, everyone knew the truth of the murder. The loss struck Hop-Frog deeply. He knew he would always be beneath the nobles and highborns, but there was always the unspoken rule of live and let live. That rule had been broken, and tensions between the have's and have-not's were at an all time high. His mother was ripped away in the blink of an eye and it was difficult to see a higher purpose in any of it. The lord, trying to ease hostilities between both sides, awarded the nobleman with an estate in the country. He hoped that the noble's family would not be offended, and the castle servants would no longer be bothered by the man's presence at court. The highborn family enjoyed their new holdings and the servants were livid. It was unthinkable that such behavior would be encouraged and rewarded. They no longer hid their disdain and began whispering of revolt. These rumors the lord did punish. Loud mouthed servants were made examples of through flogging and imprisoning, but that only made the servants more sneaky. Scheming became a regular activity, and Hop-Frog suddenly had a role to play. Despite his ties to the offending nobleman and the Lord who let him go, Hop-Frog was still allowed close proximity to the court officials and the lord. His popularity among all had never diminished after all, and no one suspected a serious threat in the lanky fool. What's more, a large feast was fast approaching. Hop-Frog would perform as always in front of the Lord and many of the servants would be in charge of preparing the feast. Of course the cooks were always watched, so a simple poison could not be administered. However, no one would notice the fact that the ale used in Hop-Frog's performance was of a different brew. Nor would anyone bat an eye at the new arrangement of candles upon the lord's table. From the perspective of those in power, nothing was at all amiss. The day of the feast arrived and as the night wore on, any suspicions the highborns had about the crew were dulled by alcohol. As was tradition, Hop-Frog took to the stage, right below the lord's table, with his usual grin plastered on from ear to ear. All eyes turned to him as he began the show. The routine was a new one that included several juggling acts, nimble feats of dexterity, and plenty of slapstick to keep the laughs flowing. Nearing the end, Hop-Frog called for another cask of ale to be brought forward. The servants promptly brought out the "brew" and Hop-Frog made a big show of cracking it open. He sloshed the liquid into a tankard and turned his gaze to the Lord, who uncharacteristically had gotten exceptionally inebriated. Whether the Lord looked upon Hop-Frog or the odd color of the drink, Hop-Frog did not care. His heart was pumping and all he saw was red. "A toast!" Hop-Frog shouted, raising the tankard, "To the good lord and the tender care he's shown to his loyal subjects." Hop-Frog then took in a large swig of the drink, and spit it upon the lord. The fuel caught the candle flame and suddenly a stream of fire engulfed the Lord. He only had time to scream before his clothes ignited. His attendants stumbled away to escape the flames. In the confusion, Hop-Frog vaulted the dinner table, grabbed a dinner knife, and made every effort to turn the burning lord into a pile of finely diced meats. Of course, such plans are usually very half-baked. This plan is in particular lacked the crucial steps of "stop stabbing the Lord" and "make sure you escape with your life". The guards were not as stunned as the attendants, and although they could not prevent Hop-Frog's assault, they could deliver instant retribution. It took 3 spear stabs straight through the chest to stop Hop-Frog, but the jester finally fell, lifeless upon the smoldering corpse of the Lord. Hop-Frog's Second Life: It was not deemed that the story should end there, however. In the coming years, Hop-Frog would hear several times that his return to life was the work of one god or the other, or that fate had intervened and had decided that Hop-Frog still had great works to accomplish. Hop-Frog made effort to never see such people a second time. Shortly after the death of Hop-Frog, the Lord, and several members of the conspiracy, a powerful force rose in west: a necromancer whose army was swelling quickly. Had the nobles not been vying for power, perhaps they could have stood as one and defended against the oncoming storm. Alas, as the saying goes, a house divided gets immediately devoured by the undead. The lich left no corpse unturned and soon all were incorporated into the army, including Hop-Frog. The swarm moved East gathering all those in the way. Hop-Frog joined the other damned souls in the consumption of human flesh, unable to give a second thought about what he was doing. His rotten brain barely had enough capacity for the first thought, to consume, but march on he did until the great Western Wall of Akron loomed. A fierce battle ensued with the dead clambering over themselves to scale the mighty wall, but the Wallguard had more tools than just the sword and shield. The main advantage of an undead horde is that if a member of an opposing force is killed, the dead can bolster the horde's number. Akron's clerics had devised a way to reverse the process, imbuing their arrows with divine power that could restore the soul and constitution of the undead. Just as Hop-Frog was about to scale the wall and sink his teeth into a battered member of the Wallguard, a cleric in the back row loosed an arrow. A blinding light erupted as the arrow struck the side of Hop-Frog's face, unleashing a lightning bolt that cracked and danced across the corpse. In an instant, the magic took hold and repaired the excessive damage that had accumulated on the body. Color returned to the skin, milky eyes once again knew sight, and a terrible scream escaped newly repaired vocal chords. Imagine your soul and consciousness are suddenly called back into being, only to immediately be thrown into a world of light, pain, and the feeling of several pounds of consumed flesh being forcefully ejected from your stomach. Such magic is not pleasant. Once the din of battle had quieted and the Wallguard stood victorious, several medics dragged the poor souls back to safety. It would be a week before Hop-Frog felt confident in what his senses were telling him and several more weeks until he decided to speak, but in the end, he had been saved. He was restored, save a jagged, lightning scar that crosses across the left side of his face, and the mental damage of his forced journey. Hop-Frog now had to deal with the ramifications of being given a second chance. First and foremost, he had to deal with the fact that he had eaten several sentient beings. Memories of tearing apart screaming victims would come from time to time and all Hop-Frog could remember of himself was a singular desire to feed. Secondly, Hop-Frog would forever doubt his memory. Just as a piece of meat left to its own devices will rot and decay, Hop-Frog's brain deteriorated for an unknown amount of time. Hop-Frog is not a magically inclined person, so how much could he really trust that the clerics of the Wallguard had restored everything in his head? Had he forgotten important aspects of his character? Important people in his life? Important events that had defined who is was? He had already forgotten his true name, unless his mother had been cruel enough to name him Hop-Frog at birth. What's worse, what if his brain had created memories out of thin air to fill in gaps? The ruined town and keep he allegedly came from were easy enough to find on a map, but there was no way to verify anything else. Everyone he had known had been swept up in the lich's horde and there was no way to explore the place of his birth. Lacking no external forces, Hop-Frog had no way to prove he was who he thought he was. For the time being, he would have to live with his identity limbo. The Wallguard accepted his servitude in exchange for saving Hop-Frog's life and he would learn their ways while he rebuilt his body and his mind. His quest would be a very personal one: to find out who he truly was. Category:Biographies Category:Recruit Category:Journeyman